


Intentional wreckage (UKUS)

by Such_Funk



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred Being an Asshole, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bi-Curiosity, But I'd love support, Fear of Discovery, Gay Male Character, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, Im using this as a vent, Lovedoveyshit, M/M, Pls dont hurt me, Self-Discovery, Suggestions Allowed, im original i promise, lil ooc?, lmao they're not nations, this fandom isnt dead lmao, this is gay af, trigger warning?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 03:35:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15788133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Such_Funk/pseuds/Such_Funk
Summary: From jell-o to unexplained scars the two try their best to live through this together. Even if it is one hell of a ride, the SUV is big enough.





	1. Jello manufacturers

A swift finger brushed itself upon the berry flavored dust. "Duuude," He growled out, "The water won't boil." he complained as he continued to play with a small Tupperware of blueberry jello mix. Alfred stared at the pot of water before putting his finger in his mouth, tasting the powder. Quickly he grasped his throat and coughed up the powder, "Sweet Christmas!" he spoke as he wiped his mouth, "What even is that stuff?!" He exclaimed to the man who walked in slowly and crouched slightly by the stove. "Hey fatass, the stove isn't on." The formal man looked over as he spoke softly. "Yeah, I knew that. But more importantly taste this!" He placed his hand on Arthur's shoulder, shoving the powder covered finger in his mouth. Alfred grimaced as the man took the finger from his mouth, not even a gag coming from him. "It's just some bloody bone and hide." The angry Englishman reminded him as he restarted up the stove. The subtle tick never missing a beat; Just as a heart beat should be. Alfred turned on the sink, letting the water roll over his tongue as he tried to rid himself from the god awful taste of ready made jell-o. Who's idea was this-- Oh yeah, the Americans. "Why are you making this god awful treat anyway?" He huffed, crossing his arms. The flame danced fearlessly, as the man said he was. Arthur stood in front of the younger yet taller gentleman, taking control of the jelly. He poured the hot water into the Tupperware. Neon blue with steam rising fiercely. He 'gleefully' walked to the fridge and slid it in, among the jello was mostly junk food; soda and left overs. "No wonder you're obese." A snarled insult entangled itself in the air as the door was closed. Alfred gave a shrug, "I'd rather be fat and happy than stupid and sad like you." He crossed his arms and readjusted Texas. Arthur will never understand why he'd name his glasses, they're just plastic and glass. Not needed, not valuable; glasses. "Being healthy is not 'stupid' nor sad!" He exclaimed, a tinge of anger in his voice. "Well, you're never happy sooooooooo it has to be what you're eating!" The American concluded as he pulled the bomber jacket off of his body. Under neath was a Disney t-shirt, man, mickey was his favorite. Or how Arthur kept correcting him; Favourite. Arthur gave a huff, running his hand through Alfred's hair, trying to calm down the cowlick. No wonder it was called a cowlick.. "Dude, the hell are you doin?" He asked, staring at him confusedly. "Your hair is worse than your personality, let me fix both." He grumbled. Alfred gripped Arthur's wrist, pulling him off. "That's gay.." he spoke to the taller man, "Isn't that weird?" he asked, taking a step back and leaning against the sink. Arthur huffed and crossed his arms, "It's not gay, your hair is just a bird's nest." The Brit commented, a tad put off at the comment. Alfred gave a shrug, he's had worse conversations. It's not like he cared.. Or did he? Honestly, he didn't know. It was only nine thirty, he'd go to work at six. Glad he didn't work the night shift. Horror stories of the hash slinging slasher and what it is like to work a Mcdonalds at night. It's not like he hadn't had a gun up to his head as he just tried to make burgs. It's even worse to have a German with a thick accent as your boss. "Do not z a z z me, for I ist ex-military." He mocked as he walked around the same kitchen, making air quotes with his fingers. He walked in circles as he giggled to himself, even the jokes were funniest if told by him. Arthur peered in, a little confused. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked, getting a loud laugh from the American. He gave a shrug, "Ludwiggy has the best voice to mock." He spoke, sitting on the floor, a tad dizzy from the circles. "You Americans will add a 'y' to anything, won't you?" "Makes everything cuter, Iggy." he spoke, placing his head in his palms as he looked up at the flustered man. "Stupid Fred." he growled, walking in front of him and holding his hands out. "Get off the dirty floor." Arthur spoke, yanking his roommate from the floor. He had been planning to move as soon as he got the job at Liner's. It was a restaurant he visited often, basking the smells of rich tea. Alfred got himself up and yawned, stretching. "Gotta make the burgs tomorrow Igg-dig." He ruffled his roommate's hair, getting a growl of disapproval. "Don't eat all my jell-o!" He called out from the stairs, flopping against his door. The surplus of posters was all he needed to make it feel like home. From propaganda from the 90's and band posters. Typical American dream; right? \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Alfred stared at his jell-o, squishing down the whipped cream on the raspberry goo. He couldn't find blueberry.. Nor did he want it. Not since back then. He sat on the couch, the old rugged and dirty couch. "Alfred-san," A soft voice interrupted him torturing his jelly. "Yeah, whatcha want Kiku?" he asked the Jap, a sigh coming from him. Store bought jell-o isn't the same as the one you make yourself. There's always something missing. "They said all the fire damage is fixed.." Kiku smiled, tilting his head to the side slightly. "The rent is cheaper because of a 'smell'," Kiku continued, sitting next to him. He placed his hand on the couch next to Alfred's thigh, "I will help you move your sofa." Alfred sighed through his nose, eating the jell-o from the fork. "Thanks Kik." He murmured, sitting the plate on the coffee table. It's been a few months since he had seen Arthur, a lot of things can happen within time. Arthur was leaving the apartment to live with Francis. Even if they weren't dating, isn't that like friend cheating? He wasn't even angry when he saw that the jell-o was gone. But the packed bags by the door explained it all. A fight broke out between the two. Alfred told him that he wanted to be independent, he wanted Arthur out of his home. All they did was fight before it became too much. They separated on a sour note leaving the American to think the worst. The apartment had caught on fire while Alfred was at work a few weeks after. Everything he knew with him was in that house. His anger with him grew thicker and thicker. Contacts deleted, emails discarded and items trashed. Alfred crossed his legs, a small angered sigh coming from him. "He thought he'd be this big chef.. I hope he's working at retail.." The american cursed on his ex-friend. Alfred had been living off of his friend for a while now. One of the kindest people he knew even if the Jap wanted him out of the house as soon as possible. He wasn't used to being back in the apartment, it seemed so empty without the clutter and the trashiest thing of them all; Arthur. Kiku and Alfred loaded up everything that survived the fire to re-furniture the small hell-hole. They got the dirty couch placed in there, with two throw pillows. Of course, American flags on them. It smelled like copper and burnt wood, crispy. He'd need to get a new bed-frame and kitchen table. Most things survived, at least the big things. He lost his toaster oven and some clothes. "I swear.. This was intentional." his eyes squinted in anger as he walked around the apartment. His black flame shorts with his white button up, he looked like guy fieri from behind. His hands in his pockets as he looked around. The walls were fixed and so were the floors. The doors had seen better days. I guess those were the days where Arthur would walk through them. At least the walls were dry unlike the day after the fire. Soaked and smelled of mold. The walls were a beige, needing a new paint job. He placed his hand on the wall, leaving a hand print among the dust. Him and Kiku spent the rest of that day hanging up posters with bright neon blue duct-tape. They did argue over the if it was called duck-tape or duct-tape. At least Arthur would give in and let him call it duck-tape. He hung up his meteoroid poster and stepped back to view his master piece. Out of all the girls in his posters, Princess Peach, Samus, Chell, Alice, all he could see was Arthur. In his stupid and ripped video game posters, all he saw was his old fr-- Enemy. His rival. He wished for the day he didn't have to share this crowded apartment, he should be happy right? He had thrown most things away from the fire, only really keeping one thing. The couch. It was Arthur's and it held a lot to him. Maybe it was the way it smelled like cherry pie or how they cuddled on it.. once. Only once, it's only gay if you keep doing it. It was black and held stains, but it.. it was special. He had other pieces of furniture, but this one reminded him of everything. He set up his play-station, plugging in ports along with his Wii. He did have a few British knock off of games, he used to love playing them. Hilarity seemed to ensue every time one of the discs were in. It was empty, even with the posters. His bed room only having a mattress on the floor, plaid bed-sheets skewed upon them. His pillows had cigarette holes in it, missing the pillow cases. His throw blanket was the same one he went to bed with. He went over to the fridge with a pack of cola. Alfred opened it, his eyes widening a bit when he saw an old Tupperware in the back of the fridge. It was filled with strawberry jell-o, with chunks of strawberry in the gelatin. It was hard to grasp how old it was, but it kind of hurt to see it. He closed the fridge after putting the soda on the second shelf in front of the plastic bowl of despair. The apartment felt so much bigger. Even when Kiku was helping him move back in, it was.. missing something. Alfred sat on the floor in front of the TV, turning on the play-station. He didn't bother getting cable, that's what smart phones are for. He felt gut retching loneliness, he looked over at his phone. He scrolled through his texts: "Manga dealer" "Mcboss" "Mcboss's side piece" "Unknown number" he was a little confused why he would get a text from an unknown number. Even weirder, why hadn't he read it? "Evening frog, I need to meet up with you at work. The Wendy's on 26th at 5:45 AM." The curious man couldn't ever not take up a chance to see what was going on. He started tapping his fingers against the phone, typing out two letters, "OK." A smile cursing his face as he saw the text was read. It was before his shift would start on that day, but what's a risk without a consequence? It wouldn't be fun without it. A fear rested in the back of his head as he stared down at his phone. A bead of sweat rolled down his face. He laid back, his phone resting on his face and the controller on his stomach. Alfred's mind started to speed up with what he had discovered the texts. "I'm going to see some random stranger. At Wendy's. At 5:45 in the morning. In the A.M. In the bright times." He spoke, throwing his forearms over his face. The 26th was tomorrow, I guess life wants him to have an eventful week. Was this as eventful as it would get?


	2. Home-cooked from Liner's

Armed with nothing less but a coupon for Wendy's, the American male left his apartment. 5:30. It should give him enough time to walk down to the small shop. Even though it didn't open until 10 am, it needed to be cleaned from the late night shift and start up the fries. What, did you think they were fresh? Alfred's dark blue hood sat on top of the golden crisp hair, bouncing slightly with every step he took. Boots splashing up water with every step, not even phasing the tired male. He made it to the restaurant, looking up at the sign. He walked around the side, checking his phone to see if he got any messages. Alfred sighed happily, thankful it was nothing but also in fear at the same time. His nails painted black, clashing with his slightly paler skin. He hadn't left the house all too much, only for work. Someone's gotta do taxes and make the burgs, you know? Alfred opened his mouth to speak, a few words coming out, "The frog is here." he spoke, his voice cracking slightly. The air was tense, thick and heavy. His lungs felt tortuous emptiness as he feared to even breathe. He didn't know why it was such a good idea to explore something knew, to discover something new. Blue eyes started to well with fear as he started to walk, turning the flash light made into is phone on. He turned the corner, seeing a.. Oh god, it couldn't be. A Brit wearing a Wendy's uniform, staring down at his phone. All this suspense for this, this carpet chewer? He looked up, seeing Alfred. He was quickly taken aback as the flashlight was shown into his eyes, making him tumble in his seat slightly. Alfred's hands started to shake slightly, keeping the flashlight on the Brit. "What are you doing here?!" Two different accented voices clashed as they both exclaimed. Alfred let out a happy laugh, "How's Liner's going?" He somewhat yelled, anger and jealously laced his voice. Arthur blushed in embarrassment, remembering his uniform. He reached in his back pocket, pulling out a small switch blade he was holding shakily between his tea stained hands. "Don't make me, Alfred." He warned, terrified that Alfred wanted revenge of sorts. Arthur felt a small shiver go through his body as he stood himself up, the flashlight was the only thing lighting up the place. "Arth-" Alfred started speaking before the wind was knocked out of him. His phone falling to the ground as he collapsed towards the Englishman. Man, don't you love when you're meeting up with your old best friend and end up passing out in his arms. He stood there for a minute, trying to process what was happening. It didn't come to him until the smell of the magic liquids that can't have too high of an alcohol content; blood. "Kirkland," A french accent asked as a man approached him, a pistol in his hands.


End file.
